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Open versed poem written for anyone who's seen a sunrise. |
Sunrise is a moment that will never see respect. A fleece of fuzzy grays and cold whites mixed together, like your favourite childhood friend's watercolour canvas, keeping the sun somewhere between a world of glaring divinity and perpetual twilight. And it should be blue. It should be gray. It should be a starmap made upside down, like Uncle Michelangelo came over for breakfast so he could fix that light on your ceiling. Because there’s uncertainty of rain and a possibility for something more. Something that would make you want to be alive, make you leap outside and forget an entire vocabulary of temperature, or bothersome words like malaria. Just so you might have a reason to wear boots again, remember moments like this are one and the same from when you cried, "Man, days like this only exist in photographs." Until you redefine goosebumps and teardrops. Until you realize, moments like this are ephemeral, and they only live a few minutes of every day. Until you know, this is one day of every day in your life, and they've always been just like this. |